Of Tape and Feathers
by Viciously Witty
Summary: "I think we both know you aren't going anywhere. That you very much are in my power." The world spun and a moment later she felt her back hit the wall of the throne room. Bands of silver slithered across her skin and pinned her to the stone until she was all but immobile. Trussed up like the owl that had started it all. "And the fun, Sarah mine, has only just begun." (PWP)
1. The Incident with the Tape

**AN:** This was born of a LFFL Friday Ficlet challenge in September. The story prompt was a lovely fanart piece by Zakeena (called "King of what?") of an owl taped to the wall. Go give it some love on deviant art. (King-of-what-377890942)

My original ficlet posted to Facebook was just about 500 words and ended with Jareth's appearance in the room. I was asked to continue it by a bunch of fabulous LFFL members, and frankly I wanted to as well. This is the result and is largely due to their enthusiasm for more shenanigans. All kudos to them.

* * *

 ** _The Incident with the Tape..._**

The owl had almost all but given up the fight. If an owl could look dejected and defeated it was doing so. Sarah was almost disappointed. She'd rather expected more out of the Goblin King. The bird twitched again against its bindings, a few feathers floating to the floor, and gamely tried to snap at a Goblin. For a moment Sarah wondered if he was getting his second wind but then it slummed as though giving up completely. Pity.

The Goblin in question, having deftly avoided the beak, sniggered and began to scrawl "Lozer" on the wall beneath the feathered prisoner. It looked back to Sarah. Sarah nodded in approval. Her leg bounced jauntily against the arm of the throne. She was seated in what Karen would have called an un-lady like sprawl. But Sarah knew that well-behaved women seldom made history and she was about to go down in the ages.

To imagine… a mere mortal woman having overthrown the Goblin King. With nothing so much as magicked tape. The Goblins would write ballads in her honour. They wouldn't be particularly good, and likely would be sung out of tune, but they would be written and that was the point.

She'd caught him stalking her in bird form on at least three occasions before she'd finally taken action. The third time she'd been stepping out of the shower and there he was, brazenly on her window ledge. She stared at him, he'd stared at her. Then she'd remembered she didn't have a towel and in the next instant had chucked a bottle of shampoo at his head. It had been straight off to the magic shop after that. The bright pink tape hadn't looked like much but the shopkeeper had assured her that it would trap even the strongest fae as long as they were in their animal form.

Sarah had waited, stark naked, in her bathroom for the pervert to return. He had. As soon as the fluffball had touched down she'd tossed a towel on him and pounced.

It was, she discovered, very hard to subdue an owl king and he didn't seem to mind using his claws and beak against her. Her cat watched from the doorway as though rating her bird-catching technique. Once subdued with tape, Sarah pulled on a robe quickly and called for her friends. Didymus answered right away. His face, upon her explanation, was priceless. Despite his misgivings, he could not deny a fair lady's request.

Her thought was to bring him back to the underground, have a little victory celebration, and then leave him in his subjects' hands. She imagined he might _eventually_ get free or be freed, but by then he would have learned his lesson and she would have spent rent warding her apartment against Goblin Kings. Taping him to the throne room wall had been but a fun afterthought. Insult to injury. "King of stalkers" indeed.

The Goblins were happy for any excuse to party and when they got over their astonishment that the girl who ate the peach was now the girl who'd now overthrown their despot monarch, they quite forgave her for sacking their city.

And so Sarah lounged in his throne, feeling particularly accomplished, and ordered the Goblins to bring her their king's best bottle of champagne. Something bubbly he'd been saving for a special occasion she added wickedly. She adjusted her robe, one leg still thrown over the arm of the throne and popped the cork.

The sound of it opening coincided with the sudden crash of doors.

Sarah stared at the Goblin King, he stared back at her.

The champagne fizzed out onto her lap unnoticed. Her eyes tracked to the barn owl still taped to the wall. The Goblin King's eyes followed hers and then back again, taking in the festivities, her outfit, and finally narrowing on the bottle's label.

He silently shut the door behind him and locked it. Sarah's hand began to tremble as one brow raised.

"And what exactly may I ask are we celebrating, Sarah?"

"The end of your reign of terror!" cried one particularly enthusiastic Goblin after a moment's silence. It looked to Sarah for approval.

She shook her head minutely, and sat up stiffly, adjusting her robe and stowing the bottle of bubbly behind her back.

Somewhere in the recesses of the room a confetti gun went off.

Mismatched eyes narrowed.

A wave of a gloved hand and the doors opened again. The Goblin King stared around the room expectantly. "Well… run."

Spectacularly stupid as Goblins were, the horde didn't need to be told twice. They tripped over one another in their haste. After a few moments of confusion and chicken feathers the room emptied. The doors snapped shut again and the sound of the lock re-engaging echoed all the more loudly for the emptiness.

Sarah did everything she could to avoid looking at the Goblin King. Everything she could to ignore the sound of the leather crop snapping rhythmically against his thigh. This led her to make eye with the abused owl. Its expression, far from pitying, suggested it thought she very much deserved whatever was coming and more.

And something was coming.

The sound of the king's boots approaching, in time with the thwack of the crop, was impossible to deny.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself and then opened them, striving to look like she was perfectly at ease sitting half naked in his throne - as though that had been her end game all along.

Neither the king nor the owl were convinced.

"I can only assume," Jareth drawled as he ascended the steps, "that you assumed that rather pitiful looking creature was me."

Sarah nodded slowly.

"Hardly a complimentary comparison. So you assumed I was incapacitated by… pink cello tape and decided to usurp my throne?"

"Temporarily."

"Temporarily," Jareth repeated thoughtfully.

Sarah began to rise. "Right but that's over now so-"

The crop shot out and landed lightly on her upper thigh, pushing her back down. The leather was unnervingly warm through the silk. "Not so fast, Sarah mine. I think it only fair to know why I - or rather this creature - was so cruelly abused. Clearly you deemed _me_ guilty of something."

Sarah squirmed. "I thought you were… spying… on me."

A pale brow arched. "Spying on you."

"I thought you were… I caught you – it – or an owl," she was no longer even certain it was the same owl, "watching me shower… a few times." Now that Sarah said it, it sounded entirely stupid and far-fetched.

Jareth's eyes roved her form, taking in her mussed hair, her bare skin, the ridiculously small bath robe dampened by champagne that did far more to enhance than disguise.

"You thought after thirteen years I suddenly had nothing better to do than spy on naked mortal women like some desperate pervert?"

Sarah winced, and tried for a straightforward apology. "I'm very sorry. You're not a pervert. I realize how silly-"

The crop slid down her thigh, robbing her words. "Oh, but I am very much a pervert. Sarah. Just not a desperate one."

She shook her head resolutely. "I'm STILL very sorry. It was a terrible mix up and I take full responsibility. The throne was always yours, just to be clear, I wasn't trying to over throw you," she laughed nervously. "The Goblins may have gotten over excited. I just wanted to teach you lesson and then be on my way. Which I will do. Now."

A gloved hand settled firmly on the arm of the throne. The other reached around her back, brushing against her waist ever so slightly. She shivered, acutely aware of how close he was. Of how incredibly good he smelled. How powerful he was. How she ever thought he was a helpless owl to be subdued with pink tape from a junk magic shop, she didn't know.

He held out the open bottle of champagne damningly.

"I… right. About that. I'll replace that." She squinted at the label. "Or get you something comparable from above ground. Top shelf-"

"I'm not sure there's an equivalent for this particular vintage," he cut off her ramblings. Two flutes appeared on the other edge of the throne and he deftly filled them both, nudging one towards her with the crop when she made no move to take it.

She stared at it distrustfully. When he cleared his throat pointedly, she picked it up and smiled weakly. "I suppose you didn't save it just to poison me."

"About as likely as me suddenly appearing out of the blue after thirteen years to spy on your bath."

Sarah snorted ruefully. "You must think me completely paranoid."

Jareth clinked her glass in a toast. "I was going to say conceited but yes."

She sipped it tentatively. An explosion of flavour hit her tongue. It was better than the lavishly expensive stuff her mother kept stocked. Better than the stuff she'd had on her engagement, when the delirium of love had elevated every sensation. Under different circumstances she would have savoured it.

"It's delicious," she offered politely, keenly aware of his eyes watching her over the rim of his glass. "I can see why you were saving it and I'm now even sorrier I've made you waste it. It must have been for a very special occasion. All I can do it offer my sincere apologies again. My offer to make amends, however paltry, stands."

"I was saving it, yes. But it's not wasted." He twirled his glass, admiring the golden hue of the liquid and the cascade of delicate bubbles against the crystal. His eyes returned to hers. "Do you want to know what I was saving it for?"

The hair on the back of her neck suggested no. "Yes," she answered after a moment.

"It was for a victory celebration." He took another draw, thin lips bowing with relish deeper than the taste. "The victory of having you back in my power."

Sarah choked, her hand drawing up to her mouth to catch the spray. She hadn't thought herself able to feel more vulnerable than half naked on the edge of his throne, but it was hard not to recognize the gloat in his voice.

"You're teasing me."

His smile deepened. "Not in the least. And I'd say, you, dressed like that, on _my_ throne is the one doing all the teasing."

Sarah set the glass down hard and stood, not caring that it brought them so precariously close. That her bare feet meant he still hovered over her and the throne at her back still caged her in.

"I really am sorry," her tone belying the sentiment, "but I am _not_ in your power. I needn't repeat the words we both remember. I will make it up to you. This was a huge, embarrassing misunderstanding, so please go ahead and laugh at my expense. But you've had your fun. And I need to be going. Right now."

Jareth smiled again, those uneven teeth Sarah so remembered now hovering but a few inches from her suddenly dry mouth.

"Ah, there's that spark of defiance I so missed. I feared the years had dulled your edges and you'd turned into a timid little mouse. I see that's not so, even if most of it is false bravado right now." A gloved hand traced her exposed collar bone lightly. "I think we both know you aren't going anywhere. That you very much _are_ in my power." The world spun and a moment later felt her back hit the wall of the throne room. Bands of silver slithered across her skin and pinned her to the stone until she was all but immobile. Trussed up like the owl that had started it all. "And the _fun,_ Sarah mine, has only just begun."

* * *

 **AN:** This is basically PWP (with like, okay, a little bit of plot). So like... uh... smut next chapter. Shout out to Nicole Schatten for suggesting this story involve him taping her to the wall. It became head canon instantly :)

 **P.S.** A Tanglewood update is coming too. I swear! The next chapter is almost done.


	2. The Incident with the Feathers

**AN:** Should have updated Tanglewood. Instead I did... this... pure filthy smut. I make no excuses for what you read here. I debated about tagging this dubcon to be safe, but decided not. It's consensual.

But yah... dirty stuff abounds. You've been duly warned. Fanfiction-al (idealized) sex lies ahead.

I'm breaking this into two chapters because I set out to write about 1,800 words of smut and instead wrote 4000 words of smut. The OCD in me wanted the chapters to be roughly the same length. Plus good things comes in threes. *ba dum tiss* Next chapter to follow...

* * *

 _ **The Incident with the Feathers…**_

Sarah tensed against her bonds. The silvery white cords, though incredibly soft, were unyielding. Made of real magic. In the way the pink tape could never hope to be.

Looking at them closer she realized they were woven from owl feathers.

Yah... she probably deserved that.

She strained against them nonetheless. It wasn't in human nature to just give up. And she might have been spurred on by the sound of the crop which had resumed its measured staccato against a firm thigh. Her arms were crooked above her head - only her fingers were mobile.

The sash of her robe had at some point fallen over, the magic bindings barely keeping her covered.

She directed a mulish look at the Goblin King. "Let me go."

He contemplated her, one hand propped against his chin. "Come, come, Sarah. I'd imagine even the owl had more fight than that in him."

"The owl wasn't in danger of being groped."

Jareth feigned concern. "We can't really know that can we? Who knows what I interrupted when I did." Sarah pulled a face. "And really, more conceit, Precious? First I was spying on you bathing, now I've nothing better to do than ravish you?"

Sarah's brow furrowed. "You're not?" She wasn't sure if she sounded relieved or hopeful.

He flashed her a devilish smile. The kind that would have melted underwear off if she'd been wearing any. "Of course I am, Sarah. But groping implies you're not going to enjoy it."

She struggled in earnest then, not because he was wrong but because she was more than a little worried he might be right and she certainly didn't want to afford him the smug satisfaction. She was already at enough of a disadvantage.

"I'm engaged." She curled her hand into a fist. Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. That grey between in which they always seemed to co-exist. The ring was gone but the tan line remained.

His wolfish grin only deepened. "Not anymore you aren't."

He was right of course, that relationship had ended, but he shouldn't have known that. "Would that have even stopped you?"

"Not in the least."

Sarah squirmed again, imagining that the bindings might be loosening a little. It worked in the movies, right? _Keep him talking, Sarah_. "And what _would_ stop you, Goblin King?"

He was close enough his breath fanned her face when he spoke. "You telling me no and meaning it. And do call me, Jareth. We are old friends, after all."

"We are _not_ old friends, _Jareth_."

She could feel his body heat radiating through the silk. Close enough she could feel the amusement case his tone. "You're right of course," he demurred. "If we were friends I might have had to let you go." He traced the cord that crossed her chest, not quit touching her, before catching her eyes. "But I'm under no such obligation with enemies."

She swallowed thickly. "And do you tie up all your enemies like this?"

"Only the very pretty ones. Only the ones who so kindly deliver themselves to me. Gift wrapped no less."

"Let. Me. Go."

His eyes flashed in challenge. "Beg me."

Sarah chewed her lip, trying to discern if he was lying or not. "I won't give you satisfaction."

He trailed the leather crop up her bare thigh. "They all say that at first. Even Ogre King mewled like a baby after ten minutes."

Sarah jerked, her expression twisting. Jareth bit back a laugh. "I did say only the pretty ones." His expression turned serious again. "Beg me, Sarah, and maybe I'll be merciful."

"Please," she said through gritted teeth.

He leaned forward and playfully nipped an ear. "You'll have to try harder than that." His tongue dipped out to soothe the sting, and then his parted lips were against her neck. He sucked against her pulse, as though tasting her excitement and fear. His teeth worried the sensitive skin enough to make her quiver against the bindings. She was suddenly almost thankful they kept her upright. He teased along her jaw line, coming close but never quite reaching her mouth until she wanted him to do exactly that.

He pulled back with a lazy smile, delighted when her eyed dropped to his mouth. "You want me to kiss you, don't you, Sarah." He brushed a gloved thumb against her lower lip. "Just here. Tell me you don't and mean it and I will be generous."

"Generous," she echoed.

He brushed over it again. "Tell me you don't and mean it," he challenged.

She kissed him instead.

She told herself it was to shut him up. To take back the upper hand. It was both those things of course, and more. She simply wanted to as well. He could do a million things, but she would have the satisfaction of tasting him first.

His lips, though thin, were firm and soft, and whatever surprise he'd felt was quickly replaced by opportunity.

He'd lied of course, he'd never had any intention of being merciful – the concept was alien to him. It hardly mattered now. She traced the seam of his mouth with her tongue, until he parted it obligingly. She paid him back with just the right amount of teeth.

Jareth tasted like the brightness of the champagne and the hint of something undefinable - magic. He was every bit male, but more.

Not content to remain passive any longer, he pushed back against the kiss hungrily, his hand rising to cup her jaw almost reverently as he devoured her mouth in turn. Sarah could feel him hard and ready against her thigh.

She pulled back breathlessly. "Let me go and I will be generous." She could lie too.

"Tempting," he replied unevenly. His voice was rough and raw in a way that worked its way right to her core. "But forgive me for not wanting to let this go to waste." He brushed the crop up her thigh, until it dipped beneath the silk of her robe and teased even higher. "Are you sure you don't want to beg me, Sarah. I ask for so little."

"Are you sure _you_ don't?" she countered, her own voice hitching just a little.

"Very well. I'll only enjoy it more when you do." He mouth dropped back to her neck, but this time instead of working up he trailed down. Down the column of her throat and along her collarbone, dipping into the hollow of her throat to taste the salt that pooled there. His hands deftly skimmed the edges of her robe, tugging the silk away beneath the bonds.

Sarah chewed her lip again. "You have me at disadvantage."

Jareth chuckled against her breast bone. "In the most satisfying way, I assure you." He paused and looked up. "It's not fair, is it?" He didn't sound in the least apologetic, but with a smirk he tugged his linen shirt free and dropped it on the floor. "I told you I could be generous."

Sarah's eyes trailed over the pale expanse of his square shoulders and lithe chest, dropping down to his narrow waist. His pants sat low on his hips, so that she could see the hollow of his hips – a trail of silvery hair pointing to the straining fabric below. She had little more than time to swallow dryly before his mouth closed hotly over a nipple through her thin robe. He sucked sharply and her head clipped back against the stone wall. He worked the silk against her skin, his hand palming and rolling the other aching breast. Not content with the barrier, he pulled back enough to try and tug her free from the robe. The cords proved a nuisance and a moment later she heard the distinct sound of silk rending. The chill of the throne room teased her chest.

His lips twitched at her shock. "I'll replace it was something comparable."

He cupped them both, his thumbs rolling over the furled skin and slanted his mouth over hers hungrily. She kissed him back just as deeply, gasping when he bent again to use that mouth on her breasts. He worried the sensitive nipple between his teeth, eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure. His fingers rolled and twisted the other tip until Sarah could feel the slickness pool between her thighs. His hand left her breast for a moment and slid back up her chest and neck until he pressed a thumb between her parted lips. She sucked the tip and then bit down gently, catching the leather. He pulled back, using her mouth to tug his glove free. He repeated the action with the other hand until both hands were bare. He brushed a thumb against her mouth, kissing her almost gently in reverence.

He pressed against her fully, letting her feel how hard he was – how much he was affected too. His bare hands smoothed up her bent arms – his finger tips like electricity - until they threaded with hers. He stilled for a moment, savouring the skin to skin contact. It was somehow more erotic than anything he'd done so far.

"I wonder if you know how long I have wanted to touch you like this." He nosed against her neck, tracing the shell of her ear. "Finally free of constraints." He pulled back enough to wink. "Well… _me_ free of constraints. I can't say I regret these." His eyes roved down. "You have magnificent breasts, Sarah. You're like a beautiful piece of art nailed to my wall." His hands retraced their path until he palmed both, thumbs teasing her nipples again. "Are you ready to beg, yet?"

"Not a chance," she croaked.

He mouth resumed his onslaught, nipping and tugging until she was sure her entire chest was mottled with his marks. His hands smoothed down her ribs, his thumbs dipping into the hollow of her waist and then flaring along her hips, brushing the remnants of robes aside, until she was completely bare save for the bonds. She felt the leather of the crop reappear against her thigh. It slid inexorably upwards until it crested against her slick folds. Sarah jerked at the contact.

"How about now?"

Sarah shook her head mutely. Half defiance, half inability to speak. The head of the crop slid again against her quim, parting her ever so slightly. The soft leather butted slickly against her clit. She gasped, the sound swallowed by another kiss, as though he wanted to taste her pleasure as much as hear it. She was no novice to toys, but this was so much more wicked than anything she'd tried before. He repeated the motion, watching her face to see just how to touch her. When the head of the crop slipped inside an inch, she chafed against her bonds, her hands fisting helplessly. He cock was still pressed insistently against her thigh, but he continued the slow teasing torture with the crop until she was quivering, her breaths hitching in broken pants. He withdrew the crop and brought it his mouth. He licked the leather in a long smooth move, tasting her.

"Fuck me," Sarah whispered in shock at the erotic display.

Jareth's eyes flashed darkly. "Then beg me, Sarah."

She shook her head again, despite the wet ache between her thighs. "Never."

His lips curled at her defiance. This was a different kind of chase. No running through the Labyrinth but still a predator in pursuit of prey – even if it was already snared. He knew the game well. So, he thought with satisfaction, did she it seemed.

"Lying only makes me want you more, Sarah. We both know you want to be caught." He licked his lips. "Devoured even."


	3. The Release

**AN:** MOAR SMUT. Final warning.

* * *

 _ **The Release…**_

He discarded the crop and knelt, his hands skimming down her body. He pressed his open mouth to her upper thigh, biting just hard enough to leave mark. Another flag on the map of where he'd been.

His tongue found her clit, flicking lightly before he sucked on it as he had her breasts. Sarah's head hit the wall again, this time hard enough to sting. Two long fingers teased and spread her wet folds, forging a slow circle before pressing within her deeply. Her muscles tightened around him instinctively and somewhere in the haze of her pleasure she registered the gratifying sound of him swearing. The heady combination of his mouth on her clit and his fingers inexorably fucking her, made her thrash against the restraints again. She wasn't sure if she wanted to push him away or force his mouth deeper. She only half cared that were she to actually take stock of her situation, she was in fact quite naked, bound to the throne room wall, and being expertly fingered and sucked by the Goblin King at her feet.

"Oh god," she moaned when he hooked a finger within her just right, his tongue still working magic.

"No gods here, Sarah. Only a Goblin King," he admonished against her skin.

"Shut up," she keened brokenly. "Don't stop." She decided she liked him a lot better when he wasn't speaking.

She felt the smile, the rumble of his voice lighting a new fire against her nerves. "As the Champion commands." His tongue curled and then rolled against her swollen bud. His fingers pumped faster until Sarah could feel the first taste of sweet release just out of reach. She'd never managed to come this way before with anyone – not even with those she'd loved and trusted. And she certainly didn't trust the figure at her feet. She gasped for breath, her inability to control the events making it all the more intense.

Feeling her just on the edge, Jareth pulled back enough to see her face, his mouth releasing her and fingers, still buried inside her, pausing.

"Wha-" she looked down incredulously.

"As the Champion commands, now she begs. Beg me, Sarah." The bastard managed to look powerful even on his knees, lips glistening with the evidence of her desire.

Her body thrummed, heightened to such a fever pitch she wondered if he could hear her vibrating. "Jareth-"

"Yes… just like that Sarah." His fingers slid in and out again slowly. "Say your right words."

She had every noble intention of telling him to fuck right off, but then he blew against her clit, his fingers curling again, and she felt her resolve crumble faster than Goblin craftsmanship.

Her no turned into an undeniable wail of please.

The sting of his victory was nothing to the culmination of her release against his mouth and fingers. He didn't pause to gloat – they'd both heard her beg – he just worked her with those expert hands and that smug, sarcastic, entirely fuckable mouth. Even as she came completely undone, the bindings on the wall vanished and she slid down, boneless, right into his arms. He swung her up easily and within a few strides had her settled on his lap in the throne.

Taking a moment to regain her senses, she pressed her hands against his chest, sitting back enough to look at him. His eyes were hooded. Victorious but also filled with something else entirely. Something far more powerful. He was still achingly hard beneath her.

She leaned in and kissed him softly because he deserved that.

She bit him because he deserved that too.

His heart was beating wildly beneath her palm. He didn't stop her when she smoothed the hand down his chest, able to touch him finally. His skin was soft as feathers, but firm and unyieldingly lithe.

Eyes still on his face, she wasted no time in freeing his erection from his pants. She stroked his velvety length in her fist and smiled when his jaw tightened.

He gripped her wrist a moment later. "I won't last, Sarah."

A rare admonition of weakness.

He'd been teasing her, but had brought himself to the brink as well. Maneuvering herself forward, she swung astride him, thankful for the wideness of the throne. The stone bit into her knees and shins but she didn't care. Hitching herself upwards, she reached between them and stroked the tip against her slick folds, just as he'd done with the crop.

The Goblin King's expression completely fractured.

"Beg me, Jareth," she whispered, before sliding down his length without hesitation. Still slick from her orgasm, she seated him to the hilt. He gasped, his mismatched eyes rolling closed at the sheer sensation as his hands landed heavily on her hips. Taking a moment to adjust, she rocked up and down in a long, slow stroke, rolling her hips as she sank back down. His fingers bit into her skin. She increased the pace, relishing the feeling of being so completely filled – the sound of their bodies colliding. Her breasts bounced with each thrust. His eyes slid open to watch them appreciatively and then rose to her face, almost reverently. Closing her own, she palmed her breasts and pressed them to his mouth. He drew a peak into his mouth hungrily as she set the pace anew.

Her eyes shot open when she felt the sudden shock of cold liquid run down her chest and pool between them. The Goblin King had tipped the bottle of champagne over her breasts, the bubbles tingling as they ran in rivulets across her raw skin. He chased the droplets with his tongue, in long slow licks, those uneven teeth grazing ever so slightly.

She could see the strain in his neck, feel it in his thighs, but his hand slid between them to finger her over sensitive clit again. Sarah gripped the arched back of the throne on either side his head for leverage, as her own movements became less deliberate and more frenzied. Her channel clenched around him and he swore in response, his other hand cupping her ass possessively. She'd find bruises there tomorrow. When he needed more both hands slid back to her waist, half lifting and seating her with each thrust.

 _For my will is as strong as yours…_

She forced herself to pause on an upward stroke, hands white knuckling the throne to hold herself aloft.

"Beg me, Jareth." Her voice was little more than a growl but it resonated in the throne room.

He drew a hand up, long fingers gently cupping her neck, eyes earnest and entirely inhuman. "I have always been your slave, Sarah."

She slid down hard, relishing his almost pained hiss. She offered one of his own when he hit her cervix. He bucked beneath her, his mouth and hands everywhere. She tasted herself and the champagne on the deep stroke of his tongue. Her nails scraped against the stone of the throne, as though desperate to anchor herself. His body coiled suddenly, his teeth against her breast and hands curled around her thighs as he held her down on his release.

Panting against her chest, he quickly slid his hand between them and stroked her until she followed again a few moments later. He groaned as she gripped him, her muscles fluttering wildly.

They both lay breathless and damp with sweat and champagne. He settled back against the cool stone, her body hot and heavy against his front.

 _Sarah._

He wondered idly if he'd ever looked quite so victorious in his throne before.

 _Sarah._

He wondered if he'd ever looked so completely owned by the woman on his lap.

They were both battered and damp from their exertions. Marks of battle mottled their skin.

One hand idly traced a full breast. The other splayed across her black.

When she made to move, that hand tightened as firmly as the bindings had. "Was it so hard to beg?"

She tensed and then instead curled her hand around him. He was already semi-hard again. "You tell me, Goblin King."

"Jareth." He covered her hand with his to encourage another stroke. "As it was my first time, I feel I need another try to have a basis of comparison."

"Mmm… the ogre king didn't elicit the same reaction?"

"He didn't have nearly as nice tits, Sarah."

She swatted him, though admittedly pleased. "You really are a pervert." She shifted in discomfort. "I'm rather sticky."

"Yes," he agreed unapologetically. "And delightfully naked."

"I'd like to fix that. And I should… really be going home."

His hand tightened again. "I can easily arrange a shower for the first. I even promise not to spy," he lied.

"The owl!" Sarah's eyes swivelled to the bird still taped to the wall. It blinked back at her – shell-shocked by the things it must have seen.

"Hmm? Oh yes, the owl. I'll take care of it." Jareth waved a hand dismissively. "Now as to the matter of going home… we haven't dealt with your punishment. I'm afraid I really can't let you leave just yet."

Sarah pulled a face. "You've got to be kidding. It was a misunderstanding. The owl is fine. And the stupid tape didn't even work."

"Oh but there you're wrong, Sarah mine. That tape, wherever you got it from – and I'm _certain_ you will tell me - works quite well against fae. You just happened to trap the wrong owl. Tape and feathers never mix. Now," he slid a finger along her chin. "I'll be generous enough to give you time to bathe and then we can discuss your," he smiled darkly, "punishment."

She drew back. "What was all this then?"

"Only the beginning." He set her on her feet. She stood there naked trying very hard not to fidget, before snatching up her destroyed robe.

Jareth considered her. His eyes tracing every mark he'd left. His pants, still open, let her see that he very much appreciated what he saw. He reluctantly collected his discarded shirt and then tucked it around her. Evidently liking the sight of her in his clothes too, he pressed a hungry kiss against her swollen mouth, only pulling back when she needed to breath.

"As much as I'd love to have you walk through the castle naked, we've traumatized enough Goblins, I think." He kissed her again, unable to resist, drunk on the power of merely touching her.

Sarah laughed awkwardly. "You're joking about punishment right?"

He raised a brow. "What's said is said."

* * *

After a few wrong turns she found herself in the lavish bedroom that was obviously his. He didn't want her walking around naked, but he clearly had no qualms about sending through the halls in nothing but his shirt. Almost certainly, knowing him, by design. The few goblins she did pass were either completely scandalized or shot her snide looks of smug understanding. One even sniggered boldly.

"Didn't I level your house thirteen years ago?"

The goblin frowned. "Er… Y-yesss."

"Shall I do it again, then?"

The goblin ducked his head and scurried away as fast he could.

Once inside the bedroom, she found an equally lavish en suite awaiting her, the sounds of a bath already filling. Her hand slid into the pocket of the ruined robe and withdrew a bright pink roll of tape. She palmed it thoughtfully. Good to know that the tape really did work, and that she'd left it in her pocket. She had the sudden inclination she might need it.

* * *

Jareth stretched languidly and then adjusted himself with a hiss.

A ruffle of feathers reminded him of the other presence. His lips twitched. He'd forgotten about the guest. He walked over and pulled the tape free carefully, the owl stretching its abused wings fitfully.

"I'd say you can go now." The bird blinked lambent eyes at the king and then squawked.

Jareth turned and picked up the still half full of champagne from the throne. "Oh, nothing too drastic. I've no intention of losing what I've gained today." He snagged the two glasses, still shirtless and pants teasingly open. He rocked the bottle, the liquid swishing. "Especially once she discovers what drinking this meant."

The owl let out another angry shriek.

"Do calm down." Jareth flicked his free hand and the owl became a wide-eyed dwarf. The Goblin King considered him. "I think I liked you better as an owl actually. Pity it didn't work out the way you'd hoped. I did so generously grant you the right to go and visit her at your request." At the dwarf's look of outrage, Jareth held up a finger. "Ah, I just never specified what form you'd take. I didn't force her to come here. What's done is done," Jareth laughed. "And you certainly can't deny she was… enthusiastically willing. I'm in your debt really."

The dwarf dipped his head in shame, unable to speak. He was the worst sort of friend. He'd all but led her right to him.

Jareth turned to leave, but then paused. "Oh and Hogshead, I'd forget everything you saw in this room if I were you. Unless you want to become the prince of the land of stench."

* * *

The Goblin King was grinning when he appeared in the bedroom a few moments later, the sound of a bath in progress evident.

He was still grinning when he locked the door.

 **The end**

* * *

 **AN:** I'll see myself off to confession now.

Originally the owl was going to turn out to be a goblin, then a devious voice said, torture Hoggle. So I did. I changed a line in chapter one to make it work (replacing Hoggle with Didymus). Hopefully that wasn't too jarring.

Deliberately leaving this open-ended. It was meant to be a PWP (I know, not my usual style) and I'm leaving it as such. I'd imagine fireworks lie ahead (and more sexy times) when it all comes out. Does she get to use the tape and turn the tables? Maybe… maybe.

Thanks for reading, you naughty beasts!

Off to work on Tanglewood...


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